Shortstories

Why Does It Always Have To Be This Way?

‘Thought is the contamination of Satan,’ I stated boldly, and then was immediately annoyed with myself because I knew only too well that this too was a thought. I felt as if I had just gone to put the kettle on but had somehow slipped at the last moment and accidently punched myself soundly in the head instead. It hurt, but worse than that I felt like a fool…

Why did I always have to do this, I wondered – it was as if I was inept, or something. It was as if I was fundamentally unskilful. Everything I did rebounded on me and I didn’t know why. I wanted to communication, I wanted to reach out, but somehow I kept getting it wrong. I reach out to unscrew a bottle top but end up poking myself in the eye. It was like some disastrous form of ataxia. I wanted to blame someone for it, I wanted to lash out, but this just wasn’t going to work because I couldn’t evade the knowledge that it was all my own doing.

Thought is definitely the contamination of Satan, I muttered sulkily to myself but before I could obtain any satisfaction from the sulking the scalding backlash hit me again, making me wince in agony. As I have said, this was more in awareness of my own absurd block-like stupidity than anything else. ‘I am a thwarted being!’ I blurt out, overcome by the sudden realization – my most basic impulses never find fruition. Truly, fruition is unknown to me! How could I have gone through my whole life up to this point without ever knowing true fruition, I asked myself. How was that possible? Even fake fruition would have been something – even a delusion would have been welcome…

The temptation was to give into my anger, of course. The temptation was to roar out loud in blind rage but I knew from bitter experience that if I did this then the backlash would be absolutely excruciating. It would be horrendous. There’s no fool like an old fool, after all! No fool like an old fool, no fool like an old fool, I brood. No fool like an old fool. But then I knew well that my only other options were to either to fall into a state of sullen resentment or give way to self pity, both of which were equally bad. Whatever mental state I went into was bound to rebound on me! And if I went into a sulk instead and pointedly refused to do anything then this was the worst rebound of all…

So anyway these are my thoughts and thought are, as I have already said, the invention of the devil. Do you feel that these thoughts of mine are doing me any good? Do you think that they have done anything to help me out of the horrendous situation that I’m in? I imagine that you’re going to tell me that thinking is our saviour – most people will say this so I imagine that you will too. Why would you be any different? That’s the law of probability isn’t it and you can’t beat the law of probability. It’ll get you every time.

The thing is that most people are at the stage where they still imagine that thought is the Big Adventure. Isn’t it amazing let’s all do lots of thinking and see where it gets us. Let’s all think our bloody heads off. Because it’s so bloody helpful. Thought is no adventure though – I can tell you that for nothing. It’s the very antithesis of adventure – it’s a pestilential exercise in crawling up your own ass. It really is. Just try telling someone that however and you’ll soon find out how unpopular it makes you! It’s useless trying to help people you see – that’s what I’ve discovered. That’s one thing I really have discovered in my life. When it comes right down to it we just don’t want to be helped. Sad, isn’t it?